


Repercussions

by CaptainLyssa



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst and Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: Cogenitor, F/M, Interspecies Romance, Misunderstandings, Pon Farr, Pon Fell, Seasons 1 & 2, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22507237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa
Summary: The aftermath of the cogenitor’s suicide leads to some startling revelations for Trip and T’pol.Rating change for Trip's language and off camera intimacy.
Relationships: T'Pol/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. Responsible

**Author's Note:**

> I know I’m a late comer to Enterprise. I’ve read loads of TnT stories after watching season I and II. I gather that there’s a lot of intimate TnT moments in season III. T’Pol’s marriage in IV and the resulting childish behaviour between the two comes through clearly in many fics, much to my disappointment with the writers. I just don’t get the whole bonding thing, but I guess that has to do with drug use in the episodes I haven’t seen yet. However, Cogenitor, as an episode left me with chills at the moral dilemma and ethical considerations only touched upon. I felt for all the characters and thus this story. It’s kind of an exploration, incorporating the very best of TnT, if they would have just been more logical in their actions and reactions to each other. Spoilers (if I’m not the only person in the world who hasn’t seen the entire series) for everything up to Cogenitor.

_The Vissian cogenitor died,_ the Captain’s words echoed through Commander Tucker’s head, along with a maelstrom of emotions that just couldn’t be contained.

Sitting on his bunk, head in hands, elbow on his knees, the tears of shame ran freely down his face as self-loathing, guilt and grief threatened to overwhelm Commander Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III. “This is my fault,” he reminded himself for perhaps the thousandth time since leaving the Ready Room a quarter of an hour earlier. The Captain’s anger and disappointment was no match for the Commander’s feelings of abhorrence and revulsion at his actions, and more especially the result.

_Suicide, Trip. She killed herself,_ Archer had told him in a tightly controlled voice dripping with contempt. Unspoken was the accusation _, you may as well have killed her._

Initially, the shock hit him like a punch to the solar plexus, almost sending Trip reeling to his knees. A horrified expression covered his face as the words slowly sank in. Stupefied, incredulous, Tucker’s mind immediately asked why? Why an individual with their life before them, a life they’d only just started to live, filled with possibilities would kill themselves? The answer came just a quickly. He’d opened the cogenitor’s mind, expanded its horizons, given hope where none existed. He’d offered a glimpse into what was possible, what the male and female Vissian’s took for granted and their culture refused to allow it. Left with nothing, no anticipation, no expectation, no chance for optimism, no hope for the future, the cogenitor had chosen to end its life instead of returning to the status of mindless ‘thing’.

Rising, Tucker looked up to the ceiling of his cabin with closed, red rimmed eyes. Hands going automatically to his hips, he strode the seven paces across his small quarters to alleviate some of his pent-up feelings. It didn’t work in the slightest. Head coming to rest on the opposite wall, the tears started once again as he recalled the Captain’s biting words, berating him for his well-meant but disastrous inference.

_You're damn right you’re to blame. It's time you learned to weigh the possible repercussions of your actions. You've always been impulsive. Maybe this will teach you a lesson._

“A lesson,” Trip cried, although no one heard his plea. “God dammit, my actions killed it as surely as the contempt of its culture. They kept the cogenitor a virtual slave. What the hell was I supposed to do? Sit by and watch as those people treated it as a pet or worse? Use it and then discard it like so much rubbish? Couldn’t Charles have taken the knowledge and given it to other cogenitor’s? Maybe started a revolution in their cultural thinking? Offered hope for the future to others of its kind?”

Turning, his back to the wall, Tucker’s legs refused to carry the weight of his abject sorrow, torturing his mind and sending his body into spasms of heartache and misery. Depressed, hopeless, remorseful, the negative emotions swirled in a never-ending stream of self-disgust and desolation. Sliding to the ground, Tucker wrapped his arms around his knees, laying his head on them, almost siting in a foetal position and allowed his feelings physical expression. The tears continued to leak from his red rimmed eyes, rolling down his cheeks and creating wet patches on the leg of his jumpsuit. The emotional storm played out, ignored by the engineer as he lay crumpled and disillusioned within the only private space _Enterprise_ allowed him.

“You didn’t think I understood the ramifications of my actions,” Trip mumbled, the sound lost in the eerily quiet room. “I understand just fine!”

_You knew you had no business interfering with those people, but you just couldn't let it alone. I guess I haven't been very successful at getting through to you. If I had, you would have thought a lot harder before doing what you did._

Commander Charles Tucker recalled the Captain, ** _his_** Captain and best friend turning his back and dismissing him. Trip wondered if the relationship between them could ever be the same. He’d disappointed Jonathon Archer. More, Trip realised, while satisfying his morality, ultimately, he’d gone against everything he’d been brought up to believe, in the worse possible way. The cogenitor’s death was on his hands and he’d never forgive himself.

“I’m responsible,” the cry issued as his exhausted and guilt racked body lost the fight with consciousness.


	2. Realisations

T’Pol retreated from the ready room at the Captain’s behest, leaving the two men alone. Although Vulcan’s were touch telepaths, she sensed the great emotional upheaval within Commander Tucker and anger radiating off Captain Archer. This showdown would likely damage their friendship. It didn’t take a Vulcan who served on a human ship for almost two years to understand the logical repercussions of the cogenitor’s death.

A Vulcan would never say ‘I told you so’. Commander Tucker had ignored multiple warnings. They had spoken of the cogenitor on at least two occasions, yet the man refused to desist in his attempts to meddle in this first contact. Eyebrow arching, T’Pol took the big chair and command of the bridge, watching the rest of the senior staff go about their duties.

 _At least_ , she considered, _Captain Drennik will not hold the actions of a single human against the entire species._

It wasn’t long before Commander Tucker slipped out of the ready room, silently padding across the bridge to the turbolift, obviously not wanting to attract the attention of his colleagues. He stood facing the door, eyes closed and radiating an aura that stated ‘leave me alone’. Lt. Reed glanced up, watching the Chief Engineer’s expression carefully. Ensign Sato also noticed the pallor of Trip’s skin and lack of usually exuberant body language. The Communications and Armory Officer’s glanced at each other, understanding something had occurred, and it had to do with the Vissian’s. _Enterprise’s_ rumour mill was quick to understand Commander Tucker’s presence on the alien vessel was no longer welcome. With his past exploits well acknowledged, many assumed he’d been inappropriate with one of the ladies, again.

Sighing, internally of course and never about to admit to employing the very human expression, T’Pol could almost feel the desolation radiating off the Chief Engineer. Intriguingly, the Subcommander found it easier to read the Engineer’s moods recently. She would have to consider this when meditating this evening.

Their animosity started the moment they’d met. As an attaché to Ambassador Soval, the young Vulcan initially encountered Captain Archer at Starfleet Command. On transfer to his vessel for an eight-day mission, she’d been introduced to Commander Tucker, the Chief Engineer and First Officer of _Enterprise_. The man’s opening words had been “I took a shower this morning,” which earnt him one of her famous eyebrow lifts. It didn’t faze the human in the slightest. When he’d offered his hand in a sign of human greeting, T’Pol’s opinion of the individual plummeted.

That first away mission proved Commander Tucker could not refrain from drawing incorrect and illogical conclusions about new species. Subcommander T’Pol warned him not to objectify other cultures, so he would know when to interfere, and when not to. They had argued in the decon chamber, not about the Lorillian Mother weaning her child, but the fact her rank out striped his and she was taking command of _Enterprise_. Of course, Commander Tucker had something to add to the conversation, and he’d touched her ears while arguing. As if it wasn’t bad enough striping naked to allow the ultraviolet light to activate the decon gel they’d applied to each other, he’d continued to touch one of the most sensitive areas on any Vulcan. Deliberately prolonging the contact, it seemed.

Later, they heatedly debated the sensors and _Enterprise’s_ ability to follow a Sulibon warp trail. Finally, they’d argued about Captain Archers wishes. While his opinions might be presented in an emotional tone, T’Pol found it hard to fault his intelligence or innate logic. For such an emotional creature, it appeared Commander Tucker possessed an unusual way of presenting his advice. The entire episode caused the Subcommander to rethink her interaction with humans.

At the end of the mission, T’Pol stayed aboard at the behest of Captain Archer. That did not mean her antagonistic interactions with Commander Tucker ceased. On their third mission, the Engineers feeling as regards Vulcans were revealed with the pollen induced psychosis. Somewhat surprised at his apology, the Commanders words struck a chord. “Challenge your preconceptions or they'll challenge you,” he’d stated. It was something a Vulcan might say and proved there was more to his man that she’d allowed. He required further study.

 _Enterprises_ very next contact proved, intriguing. Commander Tucker became the first Human male to achieve a viable interspecies pregnancy. Having researched Human behaviours and interacted with the crew, T’Pol understood ‘Trip’ was considered attractive by their standards, both physically and in personality. He easily made and kept friendships with his eager demonstration of emotion. As contradictory as this seemed, it did not stop the Subcommander from berating him in sickbay for his most illogical actions. T’Pol found her victory hollow. The Engineer continued to decry his innocence’s and appeared hurt by her words.

Curious. She could cause adverse emotional reactions in Commander Tucker. This was most unexpected and forced yet another meditation session to achieve clarity.

There had been other incidence and arguments. An encrypted transmission caused the antagonistic association into something more personal. After reading the letter demanding T’Pol’s return to Vulcan for her immediate marriage to Koss, Doctor Phlox encouraged the Subcommander to discuss her problem with someone she felt comfortable confiding in. Commander Tucker, by virtue of being the only individual to know had been the logical choice. His words, “did it ever occur to you that you might have postponed the wedding because subconsciously you wanted to get out of it?” were typical of his overly emotional response to any problem. Yet, they resonated with her. After composing a response which called off the marriage, T’Pol attempted Pecan pie, something the Commander referred to as ‘Soul food’. 

T’Pol knew of the night spent in the basement of an infamous Risan night club. She’d noticed the increasing dissatisfaction among the male crew, unable to copulate while on duty and suggested the pleasure planet to aid her fellow officers. Such would not be necessary on a Vulcan vessel where sexual tension did not exist. The proprietor of the salubrious establishment called _Enterprise_ , unsure what to do when the Engineer and Armoury Officers alcohol bill remained unsettled. She’d transported down, assessed the situation and decided to leave Mr. Tucker and Mr. Reed to find their own method of escape. Neither had said a word of the escapade and neither found the sexual release they’d hoped for. Undoubtedly, Mr. Tucker would say he ‘got is just deserts’. Humans were full of such colloquialisms.

When the Ferengi attached _Enterprise_ , she’d been the first individual Commander Tucker woke. A logical choice which allowed them to work together and save the remainder of the crew. However, finding the Engineer, once again in his underwear, with the First Monarch came without shock. T’Pol learnt to expect such behaviour from the overly emotional man.

After the Captain’s teasing “is this a bad time?” on finding the Commander knee deep in swamp water, Princess Kaitaama hissed loud enough for her sensitive Vulcan ears to hear. “I suppose that’s the wife?” It seemed the humanoid woman was under the impression a relationship existed between herself and Commander Tucker.

“Hey, T’Pol,” Trip marched over to the Vulcan, ignoring her raised eyebrow, “am I ever glad to see you, darlin!”

“Indeed,” was all the Subcommander could utter as the rest of the away team’s mouths plummeted. He had then stuck to her like glue until Kaitaama’s people could retieve their monarch.

That had only been a few weeks in the past. Mentally shaking her head, T’Pol internal clock understood twenty-three minutes had passed while she considered her association with Commander Tucker and still the Captain remained in his ready room. Handing the bridge back to Lt. Reed, the Subcommander started towards the stairs, only to change her mind. Something forced her feet toward the turbolift. As if the memories of her interactions with Commander Tucker over the last two years involuntarily carried her to the forward section of deck E, the Vulcan found herself outside the Chief Engineer’s quarters.

Another five minutes passed with the same number of unanswered called, before T’Pol used her override code. Intuition, not exactly an emotion but not logical either, forced two realisations as the door opened. The Subcommander knew exactly what she would find, and at some point, most probably on that first mission when he’d touched her ears, an intimate bond had commenced between them.

Taking in a deep breath and centring her mind, T’Pol understood what her next actions must be. Commander Tucker had been the first one into her quarters when Tolaris forced her to continue an unwanted mind meld. At the time his possessiveness had gone unnoticed by all but her perpetrator. Both Trip’s, she stumbled over the name, even in her mind, actions and Tolaris’s reactions now made sense. She’d suffered Pa’nar Syndrome as a result which left T’Pol’s emotional repression unpredictable and inconsistent, allowing the bond with Commander Tucker to deepen and grow. Indeed, with her increasing pleasure in his company, to strengthen with time. Yet, a mind meld with her bondmate was the only logical conclusion for many reasons. Trip required his devastating emotions over the cogenitor’s death alleviated, and T’Pol concluded completing the bond with a human was the only cure for Pa’nar.


	3. Chapter 3

“T’Pol?” Trip enquired as a slither of light from the open door hit his closed eyes, illuminating the otherwise dim room. Just how he knew dark shadow against the pink of his still closed lids was _Enterprises_ resident Vulcan, he’d never be able to tell. Somehow, he just **_knew_** T’Pol had sought him out after his confrontation with the Captain. Tongue plastered to the roof of his mouth, Tucker realised his lips were moving, but no sound emerged. “Honest to God, I don’t have the energy to move,” he complained, suddenly aware of the cold, hard floor beneath the right side of his body.

“I am in your mind,” she responded. Moving towards the prostrate man, T’Pol’s superior Vulcan strength proved necessary to force Trip into a sitting position. Surprised the telepathic communication between them required only the lightest physical touch, her hand moved automatically to the Commanders face. Fingers shaking with apprehension and desperation, she initiated the meld forcing his out of control emotions to quiet. As his bleary eyes finally opened in wonderment, she encouraged Trip to stand while guiding him to the bunk. Striping Commander Tucker to his lauded underwear, T’Pol pushed Trip to lay in a comfortable position on his bed. “I wish to attempt the Vulcan art of Neuropressure. It will help relax your body and mind.”

“Oh,” Trip’s thoughts, still a maelstrom of misery, felt soft hands begin stroking his neck before working their way down his back. Shivering slightly at the discrepancy between warm hands and cool air, Tucker relaxed into the calming motions.

Mental walls that started construction with the meld, increased in strength with each new stroke, separating the negative responses enveloping his mind form his usual positive outlook. Each time T’Pol moved lower, pausing over a new vertebra, his tension released slightly and Trip’s thoughts became less chaotic. The ramification of this incident with the Vissian’s would remain with him forever. However, his emotions receded to place he could visit, dividing them into manageable amounts, allowing his morality and ethics to sorted through the consequence of his actions and how to best deal with them.

“Sleep,” T`Pol suggested in a low tone as she approached the small of his back and the band of his boxer shorts.

“Sound’s good to me,” Trip mumbled, unaware the entire conversation occurred in his mind. Within seconds, Commander Tucker gave into the darkness beckoning him.

T’Pol looked down at her mate, wondering how she would explain their bond. Trip stirred, reacting to the loss of contact, both physical and telepathic. Understanding he would need her touch to deepen the conection, any conversation between them would have to wait until Commander Tucker regained his mental equilibrium. Reaching over to the communications panel above his bunk, the First Officer touched the white button.

“T’Pol to Sickbay,” her voice did not betray the emotions caused by Trip’s mind within her own, nor the effects of the retreating Pa’nar syndrome.

“Phlox,” came the overly optimistic doctor’s greeting.

“You are required in Commander Tuckers quarters,” she reported. “I suggest you bring a sedative.”

“On my way,” Phlox responded, heading for his supplies and packing his doctor’s ‘on call’ bag.

The short journey allowed the Denobulan to speculate on the reason for the summons. He’d been privy to Commander Tucker’s ideas about the cogenitor over the last three days. Captain Archer requested to see the data on the young woman’s neural scans this morning. With the ships gossip running wild, Phlox was coming to his own conclusions. More than aware of the Engineers penchant of trouble, and sticking his nose, not to mention fingers, were they would not be well received, it took Subcommander T’Pol less than ten seconds to bring the doctor up to speed on current events and their sequalae. Applying the hypospray and treating the issue at hand, the good natured Denobulan turned his attention on the slightly agitated Frist Officer.

“That,” Phlox stated simply, “explains Mr. Tucker’s medical concerns, but not your presence in his quarters, or indeed how you found him so quickly.”

Raising an eyebrow, T’Pol understood little escaped the doctor’s attention. Like Vulcan’s, Denobulan’s were a very long-lived race and surprisingly logical when they wished to be. Many had participated in the medical exchange programme set up by the Vulcan High Command. Indeed, Phlox had practiced medicine on her homeworld for several years before transferring to Earth.

When the Subcommander continued to glare, Phlox began formulate a theory based on his observation of the relationship between the two senior members of _Enterprises_ command team. “Tell me, why were you seated on Commander Tucker’s bed when I first entered? I was led to believe Vulcan’s reserve touch for those they are intimately acquainted with, such as a parent or bondmate.”

Nose flaring, T’Pol forced calm on her mind. Allowing that eyebrow to rise, she stated, “you are correct, Doctor.”

“Am I to gather,” Phlox approached the subject with an unusual amount of tact, “Mr. Tucker was the individual whose opinion you sought with respect to your…personal problems in the past?”

“Indeed,” T’pol answered. If she were human, she would sigh. Still, Phlox’s enquiring blue eyes and knowing smile forced the words she’d rather not speak. “I have only become aware of the bond with this incident, although I suspect it formed on our first mission.”

“Ah,” the doctor made the sound, indicating he understood more subtext within the conversation. “Why sedate him, when your continued presence would be most effective?”

“I have not yet completed my duty shift,” T’Pol stated disdainfully. “There is also the small matter of a standing order to dine with the Captain each night. If I am correct, Captain Archer will wish to discuss the results of the Vissian situation with his First Officer. Regretfully, I must inform him of these developments and how they will affect Commander Tucker, myself and out continued working relationship.”

“With Mr. Tuckers frequent trips to sickbay,” Phlox smirked, “I would say you have four hours at most until the sedative wears off, to accomplish your mission. Please come and see me tomorrow. I believe we have much to discuss as this is the first Vulcan/Human relationship. The Commander will need to be informed of Vulcan mating rituals and their consequences. Unless the bond can be terminated.”

“It cannot,” T’Pol almost sighed. “I was forced to meld with…Trip and solidify the bond, such was his emotional turmoil over the death of the cogenitor. His chaotic thoughts required silencing if my own repression system was to remain intact.”

“I suspect the Pa’nar is partly responsible for your loss of logic and stability, allowing the Commander unintentionally into your mind,” Phlox speculated.

“As do I, Doctor,” T’Pol tone stated he had been dismissed. “As I suspect our meld has cure me of the disease,” she whispered.

“Intriguing,” Phlox stated to himself as he repacked his medical kit. “A rather unique cure, if I may say so, but, in true Vulcan sentiment, logical.”

Checking Trip as Phlox let himself out of the cabin, T’Pol knew she could delay her discussion with Captain Archer no longer. Turning her back on the peacefully sleeping man, she needed to tackle the Captain within the privacy of his ready room. Commander Tucker had a saying, about approaching a lion in its den.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always felt Phlox is an under developed character.


	4. The Lion's Den

“Where’s my First Officer,” Archer demanded in a savage tone, mounting the steps from his ready room.

“Not sure, Sir,” Lt. Reed stated, turning over the big chair with typically understated enthusiasm. Before he could retreat to his station, Archer gave him a deadly look, as if that particular answer personally offended the Captain.

“The Subcommander,” Hoshi interrupted in the hope of settling the sudden and unexpected situation, “turned the bridge over to Lt. Reed about half an hour ago, Sir. She didn’t give any indication where she was headed or how long she would be.”

“Commander Tucker,” Archer had to grit his teeth as the words came out like an accusation.

Once again Hoshi glanced at Malcom, now seated at his tactical console. It seemed the rumours about Trip’s most recent escapade might have some basis in truth with the Captain’s reaction to speaking the engineer’s name. Lt. Reed indicated Ensign Sato should field the question as he had little idea how to handle an irate Jonathon Archer.

“Didn’t stay on the bridge,” Hoshi reported in a concerned tone, hoping to calm the Captain, “after hightailing it from your meeting, Sir. I can try and locate the Commander in engineering.”

About to make an acid retort, Archer was interrupted by Phlox. “Sickbay to Archer.”

“Go ahead, Doctor,” Jon managed to force the words from behind pursed lips. _As if this day could get any worse,_ he silently acknowledged. _It was the best first contact situation we’ve **ever** experienced, until my Chief Engineer fouled it up with his well-meant but inappropriate interference. What the hell dose Phlox want anyway. No one but the cogenitor was harmed in meeting this new species._

“I have confined Commander Tucker to quarters for the rest of this duty shift and the next. I shall keep you posted, if further medical leave is required,” stated the effervescent Doctor as the Captain’s stomach fell into his boots. The comment killed Archers anger instantly. Jon realised, too late, should have seen this coming.

“I’m on my way,” Archer didn’t need to add, to discuss this situation. The Captain had been so furious, at the cogenitor’s death, at Trip’s actions, at the Vissian’s, he hadn’t considered Tuckers reaction to the suicide. They’d been friends for ten years and the cogenitor’s self-inflicted death wouldn’t sit easily with the well-meaning but impetuous Engineer. Charles Tucker held a very strict moral code, based on Baptist Christianity. The fact he hadn’t taken up Phlox’s second wife on her very obvious and public seduction spoke volumes about his personal ethics. “Archer out. Lt. Reed, you have to bridge until the relief crew show up.”

Striding to the turbolift, Archer’s surprise left him speechless as T’Pol appeared when the automatic door slid open silently. “Captain,” she acknowledged, stepping back to allow Jon entry into the tiny space. Waiting until the doors closed, T’Pol allowed one eyebrow to rise and stated in a monotone, “I wish to speak with you, privately.”

“Not now, Subcommander,” Archer responded, his tone colder than he anticipated. The use of T’Pol’s rank also hinted at his displeasure with events spiralling out of his control. The Captain was more worried about Trip’s mental health than he’d admit. “I need to speak with Doctor Phlox.”

“In regard to Commander Tucker’s…ailment?” the Vulcan asked stoically.

Turning his head sharply, Jon scrutinised the woman standing before him. Whatever was going on, it seemed his First Officer was aware of the situation. Feeling left out of the loop, Archer’s expression darkened.

“What the hell,” he demanded, resorting to profanity to cover his increasingly agitated mood, “has occurred in the last hour that’s left my Chief Engineer incapacitated and unable to work?”

“I believe this discussion requires privacy and the upmost discretion,” the Vulcan all but whispered.

Archer had to lean in to hear the softly spoken words. Lowering her eyes caused Jon’s heart to miss a beat. Something in his First Officer’s body language warned the Captain to expect trouble and his Engineer was, once again, at the centre of it. Whatever it turned out to be, it’d most likely leaving him reeling. Frustrated and still more than slightly irritated, this day just continued to get worse.

“As Dr Phlox is obviously aware of the **_situation_** ,” Archer speculated in an acid tone, “I suggest we continue this **_conversation_** in Sickbay, Subcommander. Maybe you could enlighten me as to when Commander Tucker’s ailment commenced?”

“That would comprise much of the private conversation. However, I believe the situation commenced the moment you informed Commander Tucker of the cogenitor’s death,” T’Pol stated at her Vulcan best. Hands behind her back, Archer knew he wouldn’t get another word from the woman until they reached their destination.

The moment the doors to sickbay opened, Jonathan Archer’s eyes searched for Trip Tucker. Expecting to find him prostrate on one of the biobeds, it took is addled mind a few seconds to recall the Chief Engineer had been confined to quarters. Phlox’s visage appeared from his work station, the usual smile missing and worry clouding his eyes. A shiver of apprehension passed through the Captain as T’Pol’s glance met the Doctor’s meaningfully. Realising this event had triggered a monumental issue, Archer’s hands went to his hips, indicating both T’Pol and Phlox needed to come clean, immediately.

“Which of you is going to explain this mess?” the Captain demanded, suddenly noticing the monitor above Phlox’s abandoned workstation. It appeared the good doctor linked an audio-visual display into Trip’s quarters. The engineer lay in the foetal position on his bunk. Bare shoulders above his blanket, the lack of movement sent shivers of apprehension down Archer’s spine.

“I think it best,” Phlox started, waiting for a nod from T’Pol, “for the Subcommander to begin the explanation.”

“Captain,” the Vulcan’s demeanour became more austere, warning Archer that the topics about to be discussed were considered intimate to her species. Just how that related to Trip, Jon couldn’t wait to hear. “This may take some time.”

“I’m listening,” Archer bit out, determined to listen without interrupting. Once again, the doctor and First Officer shared a conspiring glance.

“As is custom,” T’Pol started haltingly, “I was bound to my future husband, as are all Vulcan children, between the age of seven and twelve.”

“You’re in an arranged marriage?” Jon demanded, forgetting his earlier promise to listen. Trip’s condition, or how this information affected his friend, lost for the moment. “Who the hell allows their kid to become engaged at such a young age. That kind of behaviour ended centuries ago on Earth. And you Vulcan’s call us barbarians!”

“Commander Tucker stated a similar opinion when he read my private correspondence, which demanded I return to Vulcan to wed Koss, my betrothed,” T’Pol answered in a monotone.

“Ah,” Phlox broke in with a slight chortle, “that was the personal problem I suggested you discuss. Evidently, the individual you chose was Commander Tucker.”

“Indeed,” T’Pol agreed. Both men understood why the intensely private Vulcan would turn to Trip in this instance. Archer had all but forced her hand.

“The encrypted communication I had Trip decode and translate,” Archer suddenly recalled the incident when they were observing a comet early in their mission. The engineer’s obvious unhappiness at reading the very personal letter forced him to confess his actions to T’Pol, while refusing to disclose the content of said letter to anyone, including his Captain. That must have resulted in the two discussing her marriage. “Wait, you didn’t return to Vulcan to marry this…Koss.”

“I declined the, invitation,” T’Pol conceded, her body language more stiff than usual.

“Why?” Archer demanded. “You’d only been a member of this crew for a matter of weeks. There was a Vulcan vessel that could have transported you home. I’m not sure I understand why you chose to stay.”

“It was already too late,” T’Pol answered carefully. “I had unintentionally bonded with another, although I did not recognise the fact, until today.”

“Bonded?” Archer felt a shiver of apprehension as his mind started to see links he’d ignored over the last two years.

“In requesting a permeant posting to _Enterprise_ ,” the Vulcan’s austerity increased tenfold, “Koss’s parents were insulted I placed humanity above tradition.”

“Thus, the ultimatum to return home,” Archer stated acidly, finally starting to understand. “What the hell has this got to do with Trip? And exactly what,” the Captain turned his gaze to the monitor before rounding on Phlox. Glare narrowing, Jon demanded, “is the issue with my Chief Engineer?”

“I believe the Subcommander is coming to that,” Phlox smirked genially. “Patience, Captain.”

The retort almost, but not quite, more than Jonathon Archer could cope with, he turned his glare to his Frist Officer. “I’m waiting,” he made the words sound like an order.

“I have disclosed more to you than a Vulcan parent would tell their child until the day before the wedding ceremony. Vulcans,” T’Pol insisted, as she noticed the Captain about to interrupt again, “consider anything to do with biology, procreation and marriage private in the extreme. Nothing is written, only handed down as tradition, steeped in ritual and ceremony. It is not spoken among family, and never in public or to outworlders.”

“I get it,” Jon rolled his eyes. “What you say is not to leave this room but somehow this has to do with Trip and the reason he looks out for the count.”

“Indeed,” pausing, the Subcommander actually frowned. “I have not yet told Commander Tucker what I am about to impart to you. I do not know how…Trip will react.” When the Captain glared, T’Pol found the words she required. “Although bonded at a young age, a Vulcan male does not expect to marry until early in their sixth decade. It is required for a husband and wife to live together for at least the first year of their marriage, longer if the male has not experienced his first Pon Farr.”

“Pon Farr?” Archer requested.

“A biological imperative to mate,” Phlox filled in. “A time when logic is replaced by emotion. Vulcan males revert to the violence experienced before the Awakening of Surak. They will protect their mate to the death to ensure no other touches her. Something similar occurs on Denobula, although the mating season is not held in such secrecy.”

Annoyed, T’Pol’s eyebrow rose. “Indeed,” she uttered. When both men turned to look at the First Officer, she continued the explanation. “It is through the intimate contact in the initial year of marriage and the Pon Farr that the husband and wife may become bondmates.”

“Bondmates?” questioned the Captain.

“I believe the Subcommander is referring to a telepathic joining,” Phlox guessed.

“A crude analogy,” T’Pol allowed, “but accurate.”

“I guess you’re now going to tell me,” Jonathon Archer shuddered as this mind came to the only conclusion given the information presented to him so far, “that you and Trip are… bondmates?”

“Indeed,” T’Pol stated logically. “My husband, as perceived in Vulcan custom, is not yet aware of the consequences of our bond. He will never be able to take a wife of any species, or become intimate in human terms with another. Neither tradition, our bond nor I will allow another to touch Trip while I live.”

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall,” Archer muttered under his breath as the seriousness of this situation finally hit him, “when you two have that discussion.”


	5. Explaination

“May I suggest,” Phlox’s stomach hinted with a rather audible growl, “that we move this discussion to the Captain’s mess.”

Nodding, Archer’s eyes flicked to the monitor. Taking the hint, the Doctor transferred the feed to a mobile device. Without another word they retired to a more comfortable environment. After the steward delivered their meals, the Captain stated he was not to be disturbed.

“Trip,” T’Pol’s eyebrow rose higher than either the Captain or doctor had ever witnessed when requested to continue her explanation now they were alone, “or more accurately, his emotions after uncovering the cogenitor’s death became uncontrolled. I could no longer shield my mind from his unintentional invasion or help experiencing my husband’s anguish as he walked from your ready room to the turbolift. I did not have to touch Commander Tucker to understand the depth of his emotional suffering. It was at that moment I understood my reasons for remaining on _Enterprise._ The decision to request permanent assignment from the Vulcan High Command was not so illogical with hindsight.”

“Are you telling me,” Archer suddenly became incensed, understanding that Vulcans were touch telepaths and thus the reason they didn’t like physical contact, “that you and my Chief Engineer, the man who I chose for my First Officer before you took the position, bonded when we took Klaang back to Kronos?”

“I believe the initial bond occurred in Decon after our away mission to Rigal X,” T’Pol stated dispassionately. The Captain’s question on Vulcan would have been considered extremely rude and disrespectful. As a Human, and her direct superior, Jonathan Archer was required to understand the extent of this situation and how it might affect _Enterprise_. “Vulcan ships do not use such antiquated technology and touching is considered offensive in our culture.”

“Okay,” Archer shook his head in disbelief, “I think I’m getting it and that species-specific protocols need to be put in place.” Glancing at the doctor, Phlox silently acknowledged this to be his responsibility. “Am I to gather that Trip rubbing decon gel over you,” pausing at that mental image, the Captain attempted and failed to stop visualising the pair as they spent time naked and awaiting the ultraviolet light to do its job. There were no partitions in the decon showers. Humans had long since given up such notions of propriety in the line of duty and close quarters on spacefaring vessels. Unfortunately, Jon could envisage the pair arguing throughout the entire process, adding an entirely unique dimension to their enforced intimacy. “Caused the initial bond?” When T’Pol nodded, Archer couldn’t contain a slight whistle. “But, that was almost two years ago. How has it taken this long for you to realise this…bond exists?”

T’Pol almost sighed. Forced to speak of such private matters tested her emotional control. “Even amongst Vulcans, a true mating bond occurs in 41.23% of marriages. It has never been attempted with another species. The bond formed with Commander Tucker, should be impossible.”

“So, this is completely,” trying to find the word, Archer came up with, “unexpected.”

“Indeed,” T’Pol responded.

“You said a newly married Vulcan couple would live together,” Jon worked through the facts as his mind started posing questions.

“The lack of personal space on _Enterprise,_ along with my close working relationship with Commander Tucker, appears to have been sufficient,” T’Pol responded.

“Are you and Trip sleeping together?” Jon suddenly demanded. “I seem to recall a conversation in this very room about human mating procedures. I thought Trip’s sarcastic comments were just part of his defence mechanism. He asked you about Vulcan, ah, mating practices.”

“As I stated, On Vulcan, we mate only once every seven years,” the Frist Officer commented.

“And I’ll repeat Trip’s words,” Archer allowed a look of horror to cross his face, “that's a hell of a dry spell, especially for a human male.”

“I believe,” Phlox interrupted, “the Subcommander is not quite correct. Pon Farr occurs in Vulcan males every seven years, forcing sexual congress. It becomes a biological necessity at this time. A fact borne out by the production of progeny with multiple of seven years between siblings.”

“Doctor,” T’Pol warned.

“Not all Vulcan’s are as, traditional, as the Subcommander,” Phlox continued as if not interrupted. “I once treated a Tellerite who claimed to have a Vulcan lover. If my patient was correct, sexual intimacy is possible between the Pon Farr, but not often practiced between spouses. Touch between mate’s is preferred, along with Neuropressure.”

“Neuropressure?” Archer found his meal unappealing and gave up even attempting to eat by pushing his almost full plate away.

“The Vulcan nervous system is very similar to that of Humans,” Phlox lectured. “A mated couple will stimulate each other’s neural nodes, in a method similar to massage. I am led to believe it is quite, pleasurable, and can lead to a reduction of sexual tension.”

“T’Pol?” Archer turned to his Science Officer.

“Touch increases the opportunity for the mating bond to establish,” she answered stoically. “Neuropressue is routinely practiced in the first year of a Vulcan marriage to encourage the bond to develop to it potential.”

“Trip’s going to have a lot to cope with,” Jon shook his head, “when he wakes up.”

Suddenly the consequences of this bonding, with respect to Starfleet rules and regulations hit the Captain. “How the hell am I going to explain this to Admiral Green? Not to mention how it will affect the day to day running of _Enterprise_. You can’t be Trip’s direct superior, T’Pol, with this between you. Hell, I won’t be able to send you on the same away missions. If I know Commander Tucker, once he gets over the shock, he’ll want quarters that house both of you. Trip’s a traditional guy, where marriage is concerned. If fact, I bet Commander Tucker will insist on a Human marriage ceremony to make this bond legal. This situation has opened a can of worms, T’Pol.”

“I am more than aware,” her tone took on a particularly frosty mean, “of my mate’s thoughts. I can no longer ignore them, any more than my own.”

Shocked, Archer would need time to think on that morsel. Returning his attention to the previous conversation, Jon hesitated before posing his question. “Trip’s human. He won’t go through this Pon Farr.”

“It is irrelevant,” T’Pol cut the Captain off.

“Not to a human male it’s not,” Archer stated vehemently. “You can’t expect your Human husband to…well…that is…”

“Somethings, Captain,” Phlox smirked, “are better left alone. As you are alluding to the Human male sexual drive, I believe Commander Tucker and the Subcommander will find a solution in their own time. However,” turning to the Vulcan, the doctor warned, “children may be impossible. Without Pon Farr, the resulting Pon Fell will not occur.”

“Pon Fell?” Archer asked, now completely confused.

“The female equivalent,” Phlox seemed happy to explain. “Pon Farr triggers ovulation in a Vulcan female.”

“Pon fell,” the Captain caught on, “and the reason for seven years between Vulcan siblings.”

T’Pol’s eyebrow simply hit the preverbal roof.

“So, back to marital relations,” Archer’s attention once again speared the Vulcan. “You’re sure this…bonding…is a done deal? Is there any way you and Trip could break it?”

“There have been other indications of our bonding,” T’Pol looked anxious as she confessed, “that I missed.”

“Such as?” Phlox asked, intrigued by the conversation.

“Do you recall rescuing Princess Kaitaama, First Monarch of the Sovereign Dynasty of Krios Prime?” T’Pol waited for both men to nod. “Did you not wonder why Commander Tucker seemed relieved when rescued?”

“Trip kind of stuck to you like glue,” Archer recalled, “until she left _Enterprise_. The way we found them…”

“My husband told her of our marriage. It seems Commander Tucker’s subconscious has been aware of the, attraction, as Humans call it, for some time,” T’Pol almost seemed to smirk, not that either of the participants had realised the significance of the event. “It seems Trip found her company less than stimulating.”

“I knew even a Human male could not resist an offer of my beloved’s rose petal bath,” Phlox crowed. “A Denobulain woman secreting pheromones is hard to refuse, Captain. Feezal was most upset with Commander Tucker’s coy behaviour. I believe she has never been refused before.”

“You would have let my engineer,” swallowing hard, Archer had to know, “become intimate with your wife?”

“A Denobulain wife may only carry a child of one of her husbands,” Phlox stated easily. “Sexual congress in mating season is confined to the family group for that reason, and often leads to physical harm between the husbands as they fight over a favorite. At all other times,” shrugging, the Captain got the message.

 _So_ , Archer shook his head, _a married Denobulain can have sex with anyone, but bonded Vulcan would harm anyone who so much as touched their mate. And I though first contacts were difficult. It seems cross-species culture is going to become impossible. Not to mention marriage customs. I hope Trip understands what he’s gotten himself into this time._

“I must return to Command…Trip,” T’pol stated suddenly, rising from the table. Phlox and Archer’s eyes found the portable monitor, watching the engineer stirring as the First Officer’s orbs glazed over. It appeared her mind was elsewhere. “He is waking and confused. It appears your sedative did not work as anticipated, Doctor.”

“How the hell can you tell,” Archer demanded, not quite sure he believed in this Vulcan mating bond, even with all the discussion over the last two hours. Trip wasn’t even Vulcan, so how could T’Pol bond mentally with a nontelepathic human. Besides, they were always arguing and getting on each other’s nerves.

“I am sure you have been forced to sit though one of Trip’s ‘Star Wars’ movie marathons,” T’Pol started towards the door, only to be interrupted by the Captain.

“Who could avoid them,” Jon huffed, still attempting to intergrade what had been said, “there were only about one hundred of them.”

“Eleven,” T’Pol corrected, becoming uneasy. “To quote Commander Tucker, the force is strong.”

Watching his First Officer walk out the door, Archer turned to Phlox and enquired, “did T’Pol just crack a joke.”

“It appears Commander Tucker is finally rubbing off on her, in more ways than one,” the Doctor used his enormous smiled before returning to his meal while watching the monitor.

“She must have run,” Archer grumbled as T’Pol entered Trip’s quarters a few minutes later. Sitting on the side of his bunk, a hand rested lightly on the engineer’s shoulder. The look of desolation worn by Tucker suddenly disappeared with the light contact. Not a word was spoken between them, yet Trip’s visage calmed considerably. “You going to tell me what’s really going on here, Doc? I’m not sure what to think of this mating bond!”

“I believe,” Phlox couldn’t take his eyes from the monitor, “they are communicating telepathically.”

“Could this all be caused by that syndrome,” Archer asked as his mind latched onto a convent explanation. “Pa’nar?”

“Undoubtedly,” Phlox agreed, “the Pa’nar is partly responsible. The degradation in the Subcommanders neural pathways cannot be repaired and her emotional control will never return to its previous level. I am convinced this bond, which should not be possible, has been brought on by a combination of the Subcommander’s inability to repress her emotions and constant contact with Commander Tucker. This damage allowed the bond to be created. Today, after the cogenitor’s death, Commander Tucker’s grief at its suicide had such a detrimental effect on his mental health, neither could ignore bond any longer. The Subcommander found Mr. Tucker comatose in his quarters. Preforming a mind meld solidified the connexion…”

“Mind meld,” Jon almost shouted. “As in the same kind of mental invasion Tolaris forced on T’Pol and caused this Pa’nar syndrome in the first place?” When the doctor nodded, Archer paced in agitation. “She’s done that to Trip. And you just let her walk into Trip’s quarters. Hasn’t he been through enough today?”

“Captain,” Phlox’s tone forced Jon’s attention towards the medic. Pointing to the monitor, Trip and T’Pol sat comfortably, staring into each other’s eyes. “The Subcommander aided Commander Tucker avoid a complete mental breakdown. I believe his emotions affected her subliminally forcing this bond to become known to each of them. I am speculating that the Pa’nar has been resolved, while Mr. Tucker’s emotions are more manageable due to the Subcommander sharing her ability to repress feelings. It is, in your human vernacular, a win-win situation.”

Sighing, Archer looked up at Phlox. “So, are truly they married by Vulcan standards?”

“As I understand it,” the Doctor considered carefully, “they are one in mind and spirit. The bond cannot be broken. They will never take another, nor respond well it their mate becomes the object of attention. It would be better not to seperate them for the next year, unless absolutely necessary.”

“How the hell am I supposed to report this to Starfleet?” Jon placed his head in his hands. “Or explain how I have a married couple on my ship. They can’t be in the same chain of command.”

“I should think,” Phlox smiled, “there is nothing to report. The Subcommander’s logic will supersede any decision or order given to her bondmate. T'Pol will expect Commander Tucker to act logically while they are both on duty. Vulcan spouses often work on the same vessel without issue.”

“What about this Pon Farr business,” Archer demanded. “How will it affect Trip. He’s not Vulcan. Even T’Pol doesn’t seem to know much about it.”

“Apart from their union being childless,” Phlox allowed his face to take on a huge smile, “I believe the Human sexual drive will served the same purpose. Our Frist Officer may well be in for a surprise at how often married humans need to copulate.”

“I can’t see Trip waiting seven years either,” Jon whispered under his breath.


	6. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew get in on the mystery. How long will it take for Trip and T'Pol's new relationship to be uncovered?
> 
> This will be a few chapters longer than originally anticipated. I hope you don't mind. Up dating as quickly as my finger and muse will allow.

Lt. Malcolm Reed left the bridge of _Enterprise_ in the less than efficient hands of Lt. Wee at the conclusion of the Alpha shift. The woman was capable, but Mal felt junior officers, himself included, shouldn’t have _carta blanche_ while sitting in the big chair. The Armory officer had been at Captain Archer and Starfleet to tighten security protocols by adding some sort of command codes in emergency situations, necessitating the rank of Commander or higher to attend. So far, his reports had fallen on deaf ears.

Needing to burn off energy, Reed made his way to the gym for a punishing hour-long workout. Malcolm wanted to look in on Commander Tucker, before meeting Hoshi and Travis in the mess hall to discuss todays odd occurrences on the bridge. Hearing the rumours about his friend being kicked off the Vissian’s ship, the engineer being relieved of duty on medical grounds and seeing the Captain’s fury, Mal decided it was time to get to the bottom of this little mystery. Just as he was about to turn into the dead ended corridor in the forward section of deck E, Lt. Reed felt another presence in the corridor.

 _Strange,_ the Armory Officer considered, _only Commander Tucker and Lt. Hess’s quarters can be accessed by this blind passage, and I know Anna’s on duty, covering Trip._

Noticing a shadow, Malcolm paused before flattening himself against the wall. Ensuring he couldn’t be detected, the security officer went into full defensive mode, wondering at the identity of the individual. To Mal’s shock and surprise, Subcommander T’Pol stopped before the engineer’s door, imputed his personal code, then disappeared inside. The curve of the corridor didn’t allow Reed to get a peek into the small room. Backing away, a smile broke out on the security officers face as he considered the reason.

 _Well_ , he deliberated, _nothing better than some company of the female persuasion to make you feel better. I wonder if that’s what the Captain is so mad about. He’s found out about a relationship between them. Archer sure was dark on both Trip and T’Pol this afternoon. Not sure how it relates to the rumours, though. Maybe the Subcommander didn’t want **her** Engineer on the Vissian ship, especially after the ‘Frist Contact’ I had with their weapons specialist. They were a rather pleasure oriented lot._

Smirking, Malcolm back away, slowly and carefully. Heading for the mess, he saw Hoshi and Travis sitting together, their meals almost finished. This bit of gossip just too good after the Captain’s reaction on the bridge this afternoon, he collected the first plate of food available and joined them.

“You are never going to believe what I just saw,” Malcolm teased as he sat. When both Ensigns turned their gaze on him, Reed smirked. “The Subcommander using Commander Tucker’s code to enter his quarters.”

“When?” Travis demanded, glancing at Hoshi.

It seemed the pair been discussing the same topic prior to his arrival. The boomer, Reed knew, had a very different attitude to fraternisation than the Starfleet trained crew. Malcolm’s senses tingled, understanding there was more to this situation than met the eye.

“Five minutes ago,” Malcolm responded, puzzled. Not much got past him on _Enterprise_ , after all, fact finding was part of his job description. Rumours often provided clues when chasing down the truth. “What do you know, that I don’t?” Reed demanded, his seriously pissed off face on display.

“T’Pol,” the communications officer lent in and whispered, “shot out of the Captain’s private dining room about ten minutes ago. The Subcommander looked, well,” pausing, Hoshi finally found the words to express her evolving ideas, “do you recall the way they used to argue? When Enterprise first started its mission? They use to go at each other and T’Pol got that look, like she was on a mission. After the way they both left the bridge this afternoon…” Hoshi left the sentence hanging.

“Who’s the Captain eating with tonight?” Reed demanded, pointing to the closed doors. His mind working overtime to put all the fractured pieces together. At the moment he didn’t have any idea what was going on, and it infuriated the security officer.

“Dr. Phlox,” Mayweather answered carefully. Pointing to Hoshi, the helmsman offered, “we left the bridge the same time as you and came straight down here before the rush. The three of them looked pretty grim when they arrived, what, half an hour ago?”

Hoshi nodded, playing with her fork, before dropping onto her almost empty plate with a confused expression.

“What?” Malcolm’s glare narrowed on the linguist. He could see the woman’s mind working, making connections and analysing subtle interpersonal language he didn’t have a hope of understanding.

“The Captain always has dinner with either Trip or T’Pol when he invites someone else,” Ensign Sato offered insightfully, “but always breakfasts with both.”

“So,” Malcolm’s glare moved between the two ensigns, understanding the hint, “who’s going to see if T’Pol exits Tucker’s quarters in the morning?”

“You really think that’s what the Captain’s spat on the bridge was about?” Travis asked, eyes wide in astonishment. When Hoshi and Reed both nodded, Mayweather whistled slightly while shaking his head sadly. “Not buying it. Take it from a boomer, sex happens all the time between the crew, some get away with it longer than others because their discreet. We’ve been out here, what, nearly two years with limited shore leave or the ability to, ah, relax. So what if the Commander and Subcommander are getting it on? Heck, I bet half the crew would be jealous.”

The look that passed between Malcolm and Hoshi caused both to blush, before turning their attention to their plates.

“On the Horizon,” Travis chuckled as he continued, ignoring the embarrassment of his shipmates, which was a confession if ever he saw one, “if there wasn’t a rumour started about someone not sleeping in their own bed, you started one by ten hundred, whether it was true or not. Now,” the Ensign dropped his tone, forcing his companions to lean in to hear, “if you ask me, this has more to do with what happened on the Vissian’s ship, not that anyone who knows the truth is talking.”

“The Captain,” Ensign Sato recalled, “received a message from Drennik while he was in the ready room this afternoon. The Vissian sounded up set. It wasn’t long after that Commander Tucker and Subcommander T’Pol were summoned. They both looked, subdued afterwards.”

“We all witnessed the result. Commander Tucker,” Malcolm followed the line of thought, “hasn’t been around for a few days.”

“How would you know,” Travis teased, breaking the tension and gravity of the conversation, “I thought you were to busy entertaining their weapons officer.”

Giving the younger man a harrowing look, Reed glanced at Hoshi. Her furious expression didn’t stop the security officer coming to some initial conclusions. “What could Mr. Tucker have done, I wonder, to get Phlox to order medical leave? He was in perfect health before meeting the Captain.”

“Nothing physical,” Travis commented, watching Malcolm intently.

“Captain’s known Trip a long time,” Hoshi added. “There has to be a reason he’s so mad at our engineer. Not that Commander Tucker looked happy when he left the bridge.”

 _Recap_ , Malcolm’s mind couldn’t let this go, _the Vissian Captain called Archer, upset about something. Tucker was removed from their vessel and not allowed back, which has to be the reason for the communication. This first contact seemed to be going well, until that moment. As far as I know, Tucker was trading information with the Vissian Chief Engineer, something he’s done before. No pregnancy or winding up sleeping with a Princess this time._

_Wait a minute! I am missing something here. What trouble has Commander Tucker landed himself in this time? Archer only called T’Pol and Trucker to the ready room. T’Pol comes out immediately, but Tucker gets a dressing down and leaves the bridge in a funk. Shortly afterward, T’Pol leaves for no apparent reason. Archer’s ready to face the bridge crew and demands to know where his senior officers are, only to be told Tucker’s on medical leave and T’Pol MIA._

"Hey,” Travis placed a hand on Malcolm’s forearm, “we lost you for a moment.”

“Thinking,” Reed answered shortly, shovelling his cooling food into his mouth. “Forget I said anything.”

“Not possible,” Hoshi frowned. She could see the armoury officers body language becoming more closed and tightly coiled. “You need to let us in,” she stated, “before you wind that spring so tight you’re going to explode.”

“I need time to think,” Malcolm sighed. “Just find out if T’Pol spends the night with Tucker and meet me here for breakfast. I should have worked this out by the morning.”

“Whatever you say,” Mayweather picked up his tray and prepared to leave. “I have to go past that section on the way to the gym before my shift in the morning. Guess I’ll be taking a little detour,” the boomer smiled good naturedly.

“I’ll check in on the Commander,” Hoshi offered with a cunning smile, “this evening, before retiring for the night.”

Plan in motion, the ensign’s left Reed to finish his evening meal alone. Malcolm’s eyes never left the closed doors to the Captain’s dining room. Taking out a PADD to go over several reports, he waited for Phlox to emerged, before putting his plan into action.

“Captain,” Reed captured Archers notice before the man could walk past. Brows furrowed, it was unusual for the Captain to use the general exit. Archer preferred to slip out the back door, unless he had an ulterior motive.

“Good night,” Phlox smiled, his bright eyes twinkling. “Thank you for an excellent meal, Captain.”

Jon nodded, before turning his attention towards Malcolm. His Armory Officer’s eyes missed very little. “Lt. Reed,” Jon acknowledged. “Something I can do for you?”

“Sir, is there anything I should know?” Mal asked easily now the topic had been brought up. “The atmosphere on the bridge this afternoon was…tense.”

“Not at this moment,” Archer smirked, hazel eyes filled with mirth. Phlox warned that the relationship between Trip and T’Pol wouldn’t remain a secret very long on such a small ship. The bond would become more obvious as the days progressed, especially as the entire bridge crew had witnessed the three senior officers out of character behaviour and would witness the pairs growing closeness. Making his Armory officer even more uncomfortable, Jon laid a hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “I will if it affects the security of Enterprise.”

“Understood, Sir,” Reed managed, his eyes following the Captain as he sauntered out of the mess. _Well_ , he sighed internally, _that was bloody well informative. Now I know there’s something going on and I’m not about to stop investigating until I find out what!_


	7. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italics denotes telepathy between Trip and T'Pol. Please let me know if this is problematic and I'll see if I can change the formatting for the final chapter. As you can imagine, there will be a lot of silent combination between our DC.

T’Pol paused inside the door to Commander Tucker’s quarters. Watching the restless man, Trip threw an arm over his eyes as the lights increased from half to full illumination proving his mind to be on the edge of consciousness. T’Pol’s gaze never left her bondmate as she moved to Trip’s side. Perching on the side of her husband’s bunk, one hand resting lightly on his exposed shoulder, the connection between them strengthened. Finally allowing his eyes to open, the look of desolation worn by Tucker suddenly disappeared. Not a word was spoken between them, yet Trip’s visage calmed considerably.

_Trip,_ T’Pol allowed her mind to infuse down the bond. Brown, expressive eyes never leaving blue.

_That’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my nick name,_ Trip returned with wonderment, automatically reaching up to place a hand on the Vulcan’s cheek. The depth of his telepathic voice conveyed his emotions. Unfortunately, it made T’Pol wince. Her distress was communicated instantly through the bond, as was the remedy. Tucker managed to subdue the intensity of his emotions.

_I believe it is appropriate now_ …. T’Pol’s training gave the ability to receive Trip’s thoughts, but withhold her own, until she felt her husband was ready for the reality of their new situation and the difficulty that would result.

_Now what?_ Demanded Tucker in a confused tone, his intelligent mind taking in his state of dress and the fact they were in his quarters. Something had obviously occurred but at this moment, his hypersensitive mind couldn’t work out exactly what.

_What do you recall?_ T’Pol requested, gently but insistently removing Trip’s hand from her cheek. The contact was, confusing. _What is the last thought you remember?_

_Didn’t your Mama tell you it’s rude to answer a question with a quest….hey, we’re talking without moving our mouths._ Trip glanced down at the fingers attached to his shoulder. He knew Vulcan’s were touch telepaths, which explained a lot and nothing at all. T’Pol didn’t like touching for that exact reason. _Why the hell are you touching me?_ Shrugging off the contact, he still felt T’Pol in his mind. _Weird._

_Telepathy_ , the Subcommander stated, as if that were enough explanation. She’d watched her husband’s reaction with some amusement. For a Human, Trip was taking this very well.

_Telepathy?_ Trip’s eyes narrowed, a significant look aimed at T’Pol’s hands, resting in her lap. _I was under the impression you Vulcan’s required touch for that?_

_It is normal_ , T’Pol responded, _that physical contact is not required between bondmates for such communication. When the bond is very strong, it can be felt over great distances._

_Bondwhat?_ Trip demanded. Suddenly moving, he sat up and edged to the side of the bed. Parking himself beside T’Pol, Tucker gave her a ‘what the hell are you talking about’ glance.

_I believe humans use the word spouse_ , even though the conversation occurred silently, one very Vulcan eyebrow rose while T’Pol waited for the very emotional and human response. Trip’s initial reaction tended toward humour, giving the man time to completely consider the circumstances.

_I guess being caught in my underwear once again ain’t so bad, in that case. At least she’s not glaring at me, like she usually dose in situations like this._

“I don’t recall asking you to marry me, which usually precedes calling a woman your spouse,” Trip responded heatedly, the words falling from his lips before he really considered them. Standing, he paced to the other end of his quarters, aware T’Pol’s eyes followed his every move and her mind continued to touch his. Frustrated, Tucker turned and levelled a glare at the composed woman. “Believe me, I think I would remember.”

_We are not married, by human standards_ , T’Pol answered telepathically.

_You trying to tell me, we’re marred by Vulcan standards,_ Trip shot back the moment the thought formed and before he could give it voice. It was a knee jerk reaction. This whole situation just seemed so, well, ridiculous and yet so right.

_Indeed_ , T’Pol’s mental tone sounded, almost, smug. _We are bonded and you are my husband._

Trips expression displayed his obvious disbelief. Making it to the chair at his desk, the Commander slumped onto the seat. Eyes flicking towards the woman calmly perched on his bunk, T’Pol returned his stare without blinking. It always felt unnerving, having those dark eyes focussed on him. It’d been happening a whole lot more lately, not that Trip understood the fact until now. T’Pol’s presence in his mind wasn’t obtrusive, but Tucker knew she witnessed his emotions as they rolled and roiled, contemplating this development.

Unable to settle, a single thought intruded and Trip attempted to explain, “ah, hell, T’Pol, you sure are one attractive package. Any man would be proud to have you as a wife. It’s just, well, I don’t feel that way about you. Look, we’re friends and all…”

Images suddenly filled Tucker’s mind. Smearing gel in decon after Rigel X, their arguments over the Captain’s orders, the letter Trip decoded. Their relationship changed after that, the bickering became friendlier and teasing. Then T’Pol’s ears being touched by those big eared marauders. The perspective suddenly moved. Now T’Pol performed oo mox on that idiot Ferengi and it had Tucker’s stomach in knots. Glaring at the Vulcan, Trip knew she deliberately inserted the images, knowing his emotional response because of this bond he’d never wanted or asked for.

_Not fair, darlin_ , Trip raged, trying to name the emotions struggling for dominance. He found acceptance came out on top, just ahead of jealousy, even if he didn’t like it. Everything suddenly made sense, if he just acknowledged T’Pol’s explanation as truth.

_A bond between mates allows nothing to be hidden, Trip._

_Then how come you’re hiding something from me?_

_The fact you comprehend I’m hiding something from you, proves my point. I have shielded some aspects of this bonding from you. I cannot continue to do so indefinitely. However, I will teach you how to keep a small part of your mind, separated, for a short time. There will be instances when it is necessary, especially with our positions on Enterprise._

_That’s all good an’ well, but what you hiding, T’Pol? I can tell it has nothing to do with the ship and everything to do with this…thing…between us._

_Always impatient,_ the Subcommander rolled her eyes. _I warn you, Trip, I will not like witnessing those three previous relationships. When a Vulcan takes a mate, it is assumed they will come without affections for others. As I allow you to roam my mind freely, there will be aspects of my life you will not like._

_Let me be the judge of that._ Trip sighed resignedly.

Nodding, T’Pol moved to sit in a meditation posture on Trip’s bed. Patting the space opposite, it didn’t take Tucker long to move. Now he’d accepted this bond thing, he was intrigued by it and wanted to explore it. Once he was settled, knees touching to allow a more substantial mental contact, the Subcommander opened her mind. The bond allowed for a trickle of information, however physically touching increased the flow. Allowing her husband to become comfortable, T’Pol placed a hand on Trip’s face and initiated a mind meld.

Within seconds, Trip was immersed within T’Pol’s mind. He witnessed the events of earlier this evening, from both his point of view and hers. Understanding dawned, his feeling about the cogenitor walled off, he would have to deal with them at a later stage. A Vulcan’s training for first contacts was more stringent than Human’s could foresee. Suddenly the bigger picture appeared before his eyes, as did a new understanding of his own somewhat reckless and often irresponsible behaviour when witnessed through the eyes of someone who could repress their emotions. Yet, it was part of what made him charming. He needed to think before acting, but not so much that Trip lost a part of himself that made him irrepressible and everyone’s friend.

They moved on to the bond, what it meant, how it was formed. T’Pol let her husband discover what it meant to them personally, to Enterprise and their friends. A host of Vulcan rituals and custom invaded Trip’s mind, they would now be as much a part of him as his human morality. Finally, he understood but wasn’t comfortable with the fact he was bound to this woman, more than any Earth marriage ceremony could ever convey. It’d take time to really process the fact he was now, for all intent and purpose, a husband and would be for the rest of his natural life.

Following quickly, they each explored the others childhood, family, growing into adulthood and choices that brought their lives to this point. The transfer took no more than a minute. Exhausted, T’Pol separated their join minds and ended the meld. That trickle of connection remained due to the bond.

“And I though speed dating was intense,” Trip smiled nervously, wondering how to proceed.

T’Pol’s answered with an eyebrow raise, before looking into Tucker’s mind to understand his reference.

“Are you going to do that,” he complained, finally breaking the physical contact, “every time I say something you don’t understand.”

“Indeed,” T’Pol spoke for the first time, “and I expect you will learn to do the same. It will be most agreeable.”

“You’re telling me,” Trip stood and paced, trying to get this new reality into perspective, “you like the idea of me being in your head?”

“You are my bondmate,” T’Pol explained, as if to a child, “it is expected and not, unpleasant.”

“Are you saying you like me?” Trip astonishment filled his tone. _All those time’s we were in docon together, naked, or you teased me about being in my underwear…_

_Your physical body is pleasing_ , T’Pol sent down the bond.

_Hell, how long have you been attracted to me? No, don’t answer that, I can see us in Decon, naked and arguing about the captain. You believe this bond was formed them? Hell, T’Pol, I’d only known you three days._

_I had met Koss four occasions_ , she started to explain.

“What about love?” Trip demanded. “Human marriages are based on feelings, emotions. It’s the glue that keeps them together. I’m not sure what I feel for you and I sure can’t see you feeling anything for me.”

Holding out two fingers, Trip knew this to be sign of Vulcan affection, practiced only by a husband and wife. It was an intensely private signal of their bond. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Tucker strode over to T’Pol, still seated on his bunk and used two fingers to complete the ritual action.

_This_ , he muttered under his breath, _is going to take some getting used too._

_Agreed,_ T’Pol responded. Breaking their physical touch, she gracefully stood. “Please increase the temperature to twenty-seven degrees.”

_Oh, hell_ , Trips mind knew what was about to happen. As he turned to the control panel, ordering a temperature halfway between Human and Vulcan standard, he knew he was in trouble.

_You find me attractive,_ T’Pol almost smirked, _even if you do not wish to say it, your mind betrays you._

_You just keep believing that, Darlin,_ Trip responded, but for some reason he couldn’t take his eyes of his very Vulcan, very naked wife. She’d shimmed out of her cat suit while he had his back turned.

_Dr. Phlox has ordered you to rest,_ T’Pol moved to lay on the bed, _I will now complete our neuropressure session. Afterward we will sleep._

_Oh, shit,_ Tucker knew what was coming. _How the hell do you expect me to keep my hands off you._

_I do not, that is the reason bondmates practice neuropressure._

_What about sex?_

One eyebrow rose as T’Pol sniffed the air. _This is most unexpected. You are experiencing Pon Farr._

A smirk broke out on Tips lips as he demanded the information from her mind. _Darlin, human males experience Pon Farr all the time, especially when their attracted to their bondmate. As this is our honeymoon, so to speak, I’m thinking it might take several days to get over wanting you._

_That is agreeable_ , T’Pol didn’t have time to finish her thought. Trip body covered hers, his lips demanding entry and his mind telling his wife exactly what to expect over the next hour, two, if he could last that long.


	8. Exposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be so much longer than I expected. A comment or two to let me know what you think would be wonderful. I'm not sure how much more I'll write, maybe one or two chapters. If you want to see anything particular, let me know.

“Ensign,” T’Pol greeted the communications officer as she stepped out of Trip’s quarters. Giving the younger woman an unwavering stare, it did not take Vulcan logic to understand Enterprises rumour mill had been hard at work, once again.

“Subcommander,” Hoshi nodded, a little nervously. The Vulcan had never been an easy read, even for someone with Sato’s talents. While she’d expected to find T’Pol exiting Trip’s quarters, actually speaking to her had not been part of Lt. Reed’s recognisance plan. “I wanted to call on Commander Tucker, see how he’s doing after yesterday.”

“My husband,” T’Pol allowed her eyebrow to rise.

 _T’Pol,_ came Trip’s mental yelp, _you had to tell Hoshi. Really? You know the fact you came out of my quarters and called me husband will be all over the ship in five minutes flat, as if certain events haven’t already started rumours._

_Then I suggest you dress and join me for breakfast with the Captain. There is no longer a need to remain on medical leave, as you demonstrated several times last night. I see no reason to keep our bonding a secret as it will soon become common knowledge. Besides, we have much to discuss with the Captain before our duty shifts commence._

_I’m getting dressed now_ , Trip sighed, as if put out, when all he wanted was to get back to his engines. _You Vulcans hate your private life being discussed. I can’t believe you’d spill the beans this easily._

 _Ah,_ T’Pol easily reached into her husband’s mind to understand the colloquialism.

 _T’Pol_ , Trip rebuked indignantly, _it’s considered polite to at least tell me you’re going to do that._

 _Perhaps, as you suggested when I declined marriage to Koss,_ the Vulcan seemed to have a very smug mental tone, _I have picked up some of your flawed human habits._

 _So, it would seem._ Trip couldn’t help the laugh. _It also seems you're developing a sense of humour._

The silent communication went unnoticed, as Hoshi’s astonishment caused her to back up a step, into the arms of Travis. “Husband?” she squeaked, wondering how the entire crew had missed that particular fact, not to mention when it happened.

“Subcommander,” Mayweather nodded a greeting, taking in the scene before him with ease. He’d been right about the relationship and their discretion. Drawing attention away from Trip and T’Pol, Travis teased, “Hoshi, if you’re not more careful, someone’s going to start a rumour about us. What would Malcolm think then?”

“I don’t really care,” the Ensign’s face turned bright red. Embarrassment warred with fury. She hadn’t forgiven him for sleeping with that Vissian Weapons Officer, even if their relationship was more friends with benefits than exclusive.

“Okay, sorry I asked,” Travis shook his head. Pushing Hoshi away, he held his hands up in surrender. “You really need to talk to the guy if you want more than scratching the occasional itch, Hoshi. You might just find out Mal not as adverse as you think to something long term.”

“How do you know that?” Sato demanded. Small as she might be, Hoshi’s fury radiated off her in waves as her clenched fists made it to her hips. “Have you to been talking about me behind my back?”

“Just listening to the guy spill his heart after a beer or two.” Allowing his lips to curl into a wide smile, Mayweather noticed Trip exiting his quarters, dressed in his uniform. Not willing to further the discussion about Lt. Reed, Travis turned his attention on Tucker. “Hey, Commander. Sleep well?”

“That will be enough out of you, Ensign,” Trip returned good naturedly, sparing a glance at T’Pol. Standing rigidly, she was uncomfortable with this impromptu meeting in the corridor and more importantly, the subject. _Come on darlin, you had to be the only person who didn’t know about Hoshi and Mal. It’s been going on since Risa. It was always going to take one of them straying for the pair to realise what they have together._

 _You will not stray,_ T’Pol stated, giving Trip a long, hard mental stare, _Husband_.

 _So, that’s the reason you wanted every female on this crew to find out about us_ , Tucker smirked back, rather liking the feeling making his wife jealous. _Once I’ve committed to a relationship, Darlin, I wouldn’t think of straying. I guess now as good a time as any to let the crew know about the change in our status, seeing as the deeds done, and by your lips._

 _May I remind you, of your emotional reaction to calling you Husband within the hearing of Ensign Sato not more that thirty-two seconds ago_ , T’Pol affirmed smugly _. It is best to ‘let the cat out of the bag’ as you would say, sooner rather than later on a ship this size_.

Blushing at his wife’s biting wit, Trip attempted to herd the crowd towards the main passageway, while ignoring the reason for his abrupt turnabout. Forcing a cheerful facade, Commander Tucker wasn’t quite as recovered from the events of yesterday as he appeared. It earnt him a raised eyebrow from T’Pol, although she turned to walk beside him, hands behind her back.

“Don’t know about you,” Trip offered mockingly to Travis and Hoshi, “but I’m starving. Hope Chef’s prepared a good breakfast today.”

“Obviously,” Travis took the hint with a sly glance at the engineer, “whatever was ailing you has resolved. You don’t look under the weather, Sir.”

“Going to get Phlox to release me from medical leave,” Trip agreed cheerfully, “and if you don’t watch yourself, Travis, I’ll have you cleaning out the plasma injectors for the next month. I hear Ensign Rota’s anxious to replace you!”

“Aye, Sir,” Mayweather chuckled, knowing when to keep his mouth shut, even if the bantering was good natured. As they approached the door to the mess, Travis grabbed Sato’s arm, linking it with his. “Come on Hoshi.”

Hoshi snorted, but wondered if she could use Travis’s information for a little payback on Lt. Reed, who was saving a table for them. Even better, Mayweather’s open smile, physical contact and the body language, might just give her something to work with. _Paybacks a bitch, Mal_ , Hoshi grinned wickedly up at her companion. Noticing the light in Travis’s eyes, she knew her friend would play along.

As the party entered the mess, the ensign’s lined up at the breakfast buffet, plates in hand. Malcolm watched from a seat in the corner, his eyes following Trip and T’Pol making their way to the Captain’s dining room. Barely waiting until Travis and Hoshi sat, he demanded to know what they’d uncovered, ignoring how close the two seemed and Mayweather’s hand in the middle of Sato’s back. Within seconds their heads were together and a whispered conversation had commenced.

Shaking his head, Trip sent, _and so it starts. By the time the steward pours the drinks, our marriage will be all over the ship._

 _That is expected_ , T’Pol returned. _As are the inevitable questions that will be asked. Humans are a curious species._

 _Let’s get though breakfast with the Jon_ , Trip responded mournfully, _before we tackle the rest of the crew._

Stepping into the Captain’s dining room, the memories from yesterday abruptly flooded into Trip’s mind. The crushing emotions remained safely behind their barrier, yet his distress threatened to overwhelm him. Commander Tucker couldn’t look at his Captain and friend without wincing at the disappointment Archer heaped on him over the cogenitor’s death. Sensing her husband’s reaction, T’Pol held out two fingers and gave Trip a gentle mental nudge. She needed to focus his thoughts and not allow him to drown in doubt and self-recriminations. Looking up at T’Pol, the woman he now accepted as his is Vulcan wife, and the gesture she made so publicly on his behalf, Tucker’s fingers automatically reached out to complete the action.

 _I am with thee_ , T’Pol stated, brown eyes holding blue, _husband_.

 _I am grateful_ , Trip didn’t know where the response came from, but it felt right, to have this woman at his side and in his head, feeling, understanding how hard this meeting would prove.

“You had us worried, Trip,” Archer stated, attempting to keep his expression neutral as he broke the ice.

The Captain noted the Vulcan motion but wasn’t sure exactly what it signified. Trip’s expression on sighting Archer told its own story, especially after his dressing down yesterday. However, a simple gesture from T’Pol and the Chief Engineer had his emotions under regulation. Captain Jonathan Archer knew how much effort it normally took Commander Tucker to bite back his natural response. Whatever influence T’Pol now had over Trip, it seemed to be positive.

Jon had been furious at the engineer after their meeting. He hadn’t held back expressing his disappointment and frustration. Hearing T’Pol and Phlox’s account, witnessing the aftermath and knowing Tucker for ten years, the Captain should have taken his friends disposition and temperament into account. Trip would punish himself to a greater extent than Archer ever could. At the time, hearing of the cogenitor’s death and the damage to an almost perfect first contact, the Captain had lost his temper. While this mating bond might have been present, this situation proved the catalyst and they all had to cope with this new reality.

“I’m glad to see the Subcommander was able to get you up and moving,” Phlox smiled, breaking the rising tension in the room. Indicating the touching fingers, it became obvious the doctor understood the meaning of the action.

Eyes wide, T’Pol withdrew her hand, stepping past Trip to take a seat on the opposite side of the table. She felt the strain in the room and knew her bondmate’s gaze follow her. Nodding to the Captain and Doctor, the Subcommander raised an eyebrow but did not engage mentally with her husband. _I cannot become his crutch. Trip must do this on his own, safe in the knowledge I am always with him should he need me._

“Captain,” Trip finally found his voice as he took the last chair, “Phlox.”

A blush crept up Tuckers cheeks as he searched for something to say. _Help me out, Darlin_ , he asked, only to be met with wide, round, brown eyes. Sighing, Trip faced the lesser of the evils. Addressing Phlox, he smirked, “my wife was able to do some Vulcan mumbo jumbo in my mind that really helped. I still have to deal with the emotions but they’re not so overwhelming.”

 _Mumbo jumbo_ , T’Pol demanded.

 _Now you open the link_ , Trip returned heatedly.

That eyebrow reached for the heavens.

“What,” Archer demined, “just happened here? It’s like the two of you are arguing, silently.”

“We were discussing Commander Tucker’s inappropriate description of our bond,” T’Pol said, lifting a glass of water to her lips, her glare continuing in Trip’s direction.

“Is this going to occur on a regular basis?” Jon asked, his glance bouncing between the pair. They were concentrating on each other. Archer wondered if either of his senior officers had heard him. “You two telepathically quarrelling?”

“Yep,” Trip finally looked toward his friend.

“No more verbal sparring?” Jon asked, a little put out. Those conversations often proved entertaining.

“Occasionally,” Trip confessed. “You have to understand, Captain, T’Pol’s in my head, all the time. I can’t hide anything from…my wife. She can shield her thoughts for a short time, but, anything you tell T’Pol, you might as well tell me because it comes down the bond.”

“That’s going to make things difficult,” Archer remarked, understanding the consequences.

“How so?” asked the First Officer archly. “I should think dissemination of information from the bridge to engineering improved. There is little Commander Tucker is excluded from in his position as Second Bridge Officer.”

“Right,” Jon played for time. “I was thinking more about personal interactions.”

“No more boys night’s, Captain,” Trip sounded bitter. He understood they wouldn’t be occurring any time soon because of the issues between them. The bond with T’Pol would make it almost impossible to share confidences. “Sitting around, watching water polo, drinking and relaxing.”

 _I do not see why,_ T’Pol rebuked, _when such previous events are accessible._

 _That’s exactly the reason. Jon won’t have any secrets from you and no way to loosen up._ Trip recalled their first contact with the Kreetassans when he’d been the only person to improve the Captain’s mood to prove his point.

The steward entered with their meals, stopping all conversation.

“That will be all,” Archer stated once they’d all been served. He wanted time to come to terms with the changes occurring and the ability to ask questions in privacy.

“I’m not sure you understand how crucial those evenings are to the mental health of the captain, T’Pol,” Archer almost repeated Trip’s mental words.

“I understand your reservations, Captain,” T’Pol answered. “It would be impossible not to.”

“Being in Trip’s head!” Archer considered this for a few moments, before he thought he might understand.

“In regard to fraternisation, let me assure you,” the Frist Officer stated neutrally, “if Commander Tucker is the logical choice for a dangerous away mission, even if you are unavailable to give the order, I will not hesitate. It is usual for bound Vulcan’s to be assigned to the same vessel. The bond strengthens the working relationship and increases productivity. I do not wish to be ‘coddled’ because of my relationship to your friend, nor will I allow my husband to interfere with my duties.”

 _Business as usual, Darlin_ , Trip laughed, watching Jon’s impression of a fish, _outside our quarters. Hey, we need to discuss that with the Captain. I am not sleeping without you tonight and the bunks in our separate quarters are just too narrow._

 _That,_ T’Pol responded, reading Trip’s mind as plans for a combined cabin flittered across his conscious mind, _is your department husband. All I require is a private space for mediation._

_I’ll get to it once I’ve got the Captain’s permission and I’m in Engineering._

“That,” Archer’s scrutiny bounced between the two as Trip and T’Pol continued to glare at each other, “is disconcerting.”

“You should try being in my shoes,” Trip shook his head, silently asking for permission to express his emotions. “This thing is all encompassing. T’Pol tells me our bond is very strong and distance might not ameliorate it, although we haven’t tried yet. Yesterday, I knew we were friends. Subconsciously, I understood I could read T’Pol more easily. I never thought it was due to this matting bond. Hell, if you’d asked me before last night, I would have told you I wasn’t romantically interested. Today, well, I can’t deny we’re married, in every way.”

“Trip,” Jon dropped his fork into his eggs.

“I know right,” Trip continued to push around the bacon on his plate. “Darlin, I’m not going to eat it in front of you, but don’t think I’m giving up meat entirely.”

T’Pol’s glare offered her opinion.

“See what I mean,” Trip sighed. “Can’t even enjoy breakfast. Doc, I’m ready to go back to work. Actually, I need to speak to you, Captain, about our quarters.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Archer had wondered how long this request would take. “What have you got in mind, Trip?”


	9. A Conversation With the Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are getting close to the end.

“If you will excuse me, Captain,” T’Pol nodded as she stood. “I believe I should relieve the night shift until you are ready to join me on the bridge.”

Food remained on Archer and Tucker’s plates. After Jon’s curt dismissal of the steward, the poor man obviously waited for the to call before being able to complete his morning duties. It appeared the message that the Captain was ‘not to be disturbed’ reached the officer in charge on the bridge. It was now past time Archer should have reported for duty. Not to mention keeping the remainder of the command crew with in his private domain. Releasing T’Pol, Phlox immediately excused himself, leaving the Captain and Chief Engineer alone for the first time since the cogenitor’s death.

“I guess I’d better get to Engineering,” Trip stated uneasily, glancing at Archer while rapidly masticating. He’d waited until T’Pol left the dining room, before shovelling a rash of bacon into his mouth. The expression of bliss made Jon smirk. “What,” Tucker, munched quickly, before reaching for the second piece. “I only promised not to eat meat while she was looking.”

“Semantics,” the Captain chuckled, realising Trip’s reactions to this bond thing could be just as amusing as the verbal disputes between his most senior officers.

 _Agreed_ , T’Pol’s mental voice sounded unimpressed.

“My wife agrees,” Trip rolled his eyes, thrusting the last strip into his mouth.

“This,” Archer pointed between Tucker and the closed door, “is a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it,” exclaimed the engineer, this time his eyes rolled in exasperation. “Captain,” Trip exhaled sharply after the mental shove from T’Pol. It seemed his wife deliberately left them together so they might hash out their issues. Running his fingers through his hair demonstrated the Commander’s disquiet. Still, Tucker wanted this discussion on a personal level, between friends, at least to begin with. “Jon, I guess we’ve got a lot to work out, between us.”

“I guess we do, Trip,” Archer responded, picking up his juice. Confused, the man fought with the Captain. Each needed to express their sentiments and make their opinion crystal clear. “I have to say, I’m just not sure where to start.”

“Well,” Tucker found his lips curing, “that makes two of us. It’s kind of been a busy night.”

“The beginning is usually the best place,” Jon decided unhappily. With that, the Captain emerged. Body language becoming stiff, Archer needed to get the official stance out of the way. “Commander, what’s done, is done. You and I can’t do anything to change that fact. No, don’t interrupt me. I need to say this as your commanding officer before we can get to the personal issues. As I said when this situation came to light, you're a senior officer on this ship. I need you to act in a manner consistent with Starfleet protocols and procedures, such as they are, especially when I’m on an away mission or I leave you in charge of Enterprise. I need to trust I can do that. After this incident with the Vissian’s, I’m not sure I can.”

“I know the juniors and crewmen look up to you, mostly for the same reason I do. Your nature attracts people and you’re the best engineer in Starfleet. I can’t have that jocund, blithe individual in a command capacity, especially when I know how professional you can be. You know your more than just a subordinate to me personally, Trip,” with the use of his appellation, Archer turned the conversation intimate. “You’re my friend, the person who can reach me, get me to see sense, let me relax and be myself when I’m uptight. When we’re watching water polo and sharing a beer, I don’t feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I need that. Being the Captain can be a very lonely position.”

Archer watched the play of emotions across Tucker’s features. He could see how much the engineer wanted to speak but held back. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. That window to Trip’s soul that Jonathan Archer relied on to see what his friend was thinking, slammed closed.

 _This,_ came the sudden and saddening realisation, _is what the mating bond with T’Pol has done. I wanted the impulsivity tempered, more logic before speaking and better emotional control. Well, now I have a Chief Engineer with those qualities, and I’m not sure I like it._

  
“Honestly, Trip,” Jon sighed heavily, getting up and pacing, “I don't know what I would have done in your place. I wasn’t there. I didn’t see how the Vissian’s treated their ships cogenitor. Listening to her, reading Phlox’s neurological data, I can see the moral dilemma for someone brought up the way you were. My heart agrees with your actions.”

“But,” Trip prompted. Both his expression and tone neutral, as he knew what was coming.

“I’m the Captain and responsible for every incident that occurs where a member of my crew is involved,” Archer really didn’t need to explain. He needed to say the words, to make Trip understand the dichotomy of his position. “Due to your involvement, I couldn’t allow you to be present when Captain Drennik came aboard to discuss the asylum application. When those people referred to Charles as if an inanimate object, it made my blood boil. But, I had a job to do, no matter what my personal opinion.”

“I understand, Captain,” Trucker answered slowly. Tapping his head, Trip stated dolefully, “I guess I understand more now. Truth, if I had to do it again, I think I would, just not the same way. You were right, Charles didn’t ask me for help, but everything about the cogenitor’s behaviour was screaming out its pain. No, Captain, I did you the courtesy of listening. I need both you and T’Pol to understand something. A couple hundred years ago on Earth we had slavery. Just because a race of people with the same intelligence and abilities were born with more melanin in their skin, somehow, they were seen as less than human and we allowed them to be treated differently. As a species, we managed to overcome that kind of thinking.”

“You think,” Archer understood where this discussion was going, “you approach was wrong.”

“Hell, yes,” Trip suddenly stood, knocking over his chair. “I told Charles it could have everything the other Vissian’s had. I forgot to say it would take time, effort and lots of work. That freedom comes at a price and would most probably need other cogenitor’s to be awakened to their condition before social revolution could occur. That one person alone couldn’t affect the kind of change I promised, not that I should have promised it anything. I should have shown Charles a movie about emancipation or suffrage so it would understand. Charles decided the loss of hope equated to death, because I didn’t explain what would be needed to achieve the goal it wanted. It was like taking a kid into a candy store and showing them what was possible, then walking out and leaving them there without the ability to purchase anything. The temptation of immediate gratification was too great.”

Stunned, Jonathan Archer watched as Commander Tucker stopped dead. Turning to face his friend, the suffering came though his crystal-clear blue eyes. “I have to live with that decision, every day, for the rest of my life, knowing how I made Charles feel so hopeless, it saw death as the only solution. My interference and lack of clarity led directly to Charles actions, even if my intentions were pure. I tell you now, Jon, I’m never going to make the same mistake again. When, if, you leave me in charge of Enterprise, or take me on an away mission, you’ll never get less than my best. That best changed last night. I have no choice, T’Pol will always be in my head, telling me what the logical decision should be and influencing my actions.”

“I believe you, Trip,” Archer said softly. “I just want you to know, yesterday, in the ready room, that was the Captain. My Chief Engineer disappointed his superior officer.”

“And I disappointed a friend by assuming I did exactly what he’d do,” Trip retorted despondently. Picking up the chair, he slumped into it. “I’m sorry, Jon. Sorry you had to come back to this situation after spending two days with Drennik and one of the best first contact situations we’ve ever experienced. I guess having T’Pol in my head has finally made me realise the difference between professional and personal, and where that line sits between us.”

“Are we okay?” Archer asked.

“I hope so,” Trip’s lips showed the barest upwards movement. “Although my Captain shouldn’t have let me get off so lightly.”

“If you can promise you’ll never put your Captain in that position again,” Jon suddenly felt lighter, “I think he’ll leave well enough alone.”

“I can’t promise,” Tucker’s good mood completely disappeared. “All I can do is promise to try. T’Pol said she’ll do her best to keep me on the straight and narrow, professionally. Hey, Darlin, no way are you going to stop me from expressing my feelings with my friends, and that’s final.”

“Trouble in paradise,” Jon quipped, “already?”

Mumbling, Tucker had that faraway look in his eye. Jon understood T’Pol was arguing with the man seated beside him. Letting out a soft chuckle, the Captain realised something like this situation with the Vissian’s would never occur again. His First Officer would ensure it didn’t. However, T’Pol was going to have a fight on her hand if she though Trip would alter his off-duty personality.

“You could say that,” Tucker answered with a slight frown. “That dam woman is going to be the death of me.”

 _You will address me as Subcommander,_ T’pol stated _, as my duty shift has commenced._

 _Yes, Ma’am,_ Trip couldn’t keep the surliness out of his mental tone.

“Commander,” Archer used the rank to demonstrate their conversation had shifted once again. “Shared quarters and a Vulcan marriage on a Starfleet ship, we can get away with. If you have any thoughts of making this relationship legal by human standards…”

“I know,” Trip snorted, “that dam fraternisation rule. Don’t worry, I won’t place you in that position. Besides, my Mama would kill me if I got wed without the full Baptist Church regalia and reception. Keep your shirt on T’Pol,” Tucker spoke more for Archer’s benefit, knowing his friend would get a kick out of the argument. “It’s a family tradition. Ah, come on, Darlin, you know how much I hate the desert. Do we really have to do a Vulcan ceremony as well?”

Snickering, Jon lent over to the comm panel. Signalling the steward could remove the dishes, Archer knew the relationship with his friend remained solid, if still a little strained. Time would heal the wounds. The Captain, on the other hand, wondered just how this bond between his first and second officer would play out.

“You done arguing with your spouse?” Jon teased.

“Never,” Trip finally grinned. “So, do I have permission to start those changes to our quarters?”

“Actually,” Jon stood, preparing to leave just as the door opened on the poor unsuspecting steward, “I was thinking the two empty cabins down this corridor might provide a more private area, for a newly mated couple. Wouldn’t want you and T’Pol disturbed at a delicate moment.”

Waiting until they exited the door into the main dining room, Trip responded caustically, “great timing, as always. Why don’t you just get the crew together and tell them. You know the Steward has a bigger mouth than Hoshi. Between the pair of them, I’m not sure there’s a member of this crew who hasn’t heard.”

“Actually,” Jon gave Tucker a good-natured thump on the back, “I was going to make a ship wide announcement once I get back to my ready room, just to make it official. Nothing like the Captain affirming the rumours.”

Shaking his head, Trip bolted for the door. He wanted to be cleaning out the plasma injectors before the Captain could make good on his threat. Once his engineering crew heard, if they hadn’t caught the rumour already, he’d never get anything done for the rest of the day.

 _Now_ , Tucker muttered silently, _if I can just shield T’Pol from my mind, I might be able to avoid the worst of the fall out._

 _To use one of your colloquiums_ , the Vulcan First Officer retorted, _not a chance in hell._


	10. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are finally done with this tale. Let me know what you think.

“You want what?” Lt. Hess looked at the plans on the PADD. Secretly delighted, she’d wondered about all that bickering between Commander Tucker and Subcommander T’Pol. When this morning’s whispered revelations reached Christine’s ears, they didn’t come as a surprise. Well, not much of one anyway. It certainly explained the need for dual use quarters if the stories were true.

“The wall between those two cabins removed,” Trip sighed. “It’s really not a big job.”

“Then the rumours are true?” Hess demanded, tiny hands on her rounded hips. Christine held back the smile, delighted for her boss. He worked way too hard. With another interest, maybe he’d end his duty shifts on time for a change and she’d get a little more expertise and authority.

“And what rumours would those be?” Tucker returned, attempting to keep a straight face.

It was undone when the Captain made the promised ship wide announcement at that very moment. Short and sweet, Jonathan Archer gave the facts. After an incident with the Vissian’s, the Frist and Second officers uncovered a Vulcan telepathic marriage bond existed between them. Once Enterprise returned to Earth, both Human and Vulcan official wedding ceremonies would follow. However, Subcommander T’Pol and Commander Tucker were to be congratulated on their unique relationship. A small reception would be arranged in the next week, to be held between shifts so any crew who wanted to attend would be able.

“I guess,” Hess gave her commanding officer threatening look for keeping his crew in the dark, “it’s out in the open now. Marriage, big step, Sir.”

“Yep,” Trip responded, his expression cynical. He knew his engineers and if Hess had anything to say about it, he was in for some kind of prank. Commander Tucker would have to watch his step for the next week or two.

While Trip pondered the ramification within his department, T’Pol considered the Captain’s announcement effective but crude. This new aspect to the bond hinted at emotions that were ruthlessly supressed in the Vulcan’s mind. It made the Tucker wince, realising the discomfort, and influence, went both ways.

Trip sighed, _no need to get your nose out of joint every time one of my crew teases me. It’ll take weeks for them to stop. Until then, you’re just going to have to learn to live with a human in your mind._

 _It is your exuberant reaction that bothers me, Husband,_ T’Pol returned caustically.

 _That’s Commander on duty, wife_ , Trip sent back, mockingly.

“No point asking why I’m about to knock down that wall, then,” Hess watched her boss’s face become blank for a moment.

“You tried sharing a single bunk?” Trip teased. “Besides, my wife want’s space to meditate.”

Shaking her head, Hess responded, “Whipped already. It’s been what,” scrutinising the Commander’s face, he gave nothing away. “Come on, you can’t blame a girl for trying. I got to have something to tell the rest of the team when they ask how long this has been going on. If you can’t tell your deputy, who can the Chief confide in?”

“My wife,” Trip stated sardonically.

“Now, this I got to hear,” Hess stood her ground. She would refuse to move until the boss spilled the beans. “According to the Captain, you aren’t legally married. Out with it, Sir. What is this Vulcan bond?”

Sighing, Tucker shook his head. Understanding this crew wouldn’t stop until they knew all the gory details, he signalled an impromptu meeting so they could spread the truth, not half-baked theories. T’Pol’s frosty voice advised against his actions. Yet, it was Trip who won this round. His logic and knowledge of his team convincing his wife to come clean and avoid any misconceptions as to their relationship. Allowing his mind to remain completely open, the Subcommander seemed impressed as her husband willingly answered each and every question with a level of modesty and comic indulgence she’d not suspected he possessed.

“I’m assuming the terminals from the Frist Officer’s and the Chief Engineer’s old quarters,” Hess threw in, just as the meeting broke up, “will need rehoming. I’m just not sure where. I think you need a couple of alcoves so you can work in the same space without getting on each other’s nerves.”

Much to Trip’s satisfaction, and T’Pol’s discomfiture, several members of the engineering team volunteered to get the conversion underway immediately. “We can have the wall down and a decent bunk installed by the end of the shift,” one Ensign promised. He was backed up by several crewmates.

“You know, this design isn’t very efficient,” Hess hissed, looking to the thirteen faces surrounding her. It was the entire engine room day shift. “Men, you wouldn’t have the first idea about interior design. Leave it to us women. We’ll have something ready for you and T’Pol by the end of your shift, even if the refinements take a few days. Kelly, Raynes, you’re with me. Rostov, Jenkins, Walsh, you stay here and help the Chief get through the work assigned for this duty shift. The rest of you, get going on that wall and changing out the fixtures. It shouldn’t take the eight of you more than two hours.”

“You heard Lt. Hess,” Commander Tucker shook his head, allowing a grin to split his face. “We got work to do people.”

Before Christine could move, Trip’s hand shot out, holding her back. Giving him a dirty look, Hess sighed dramatically.

Trip tried to keep a frown on his lips while internally smiling, “if you want to involve every female on this ship so you can spread gossip, that’s fine by me. Vulcan’s like their privacy, so just make sure whatever you say, is the truth, or you might have to answer to the Subcommaner.”

“Sir,” Hess attempted to appeared offended as the unofficial reprimand.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Trip waved the woman away from his station. “Some of us have real work to do. Not that you’ve left me with much to work with.”

With the limited manpower left him, Trip skipped lunch. If he left the engine room, passing crew stopped to give their congratulations. Some more enthusiastically than others. In general, it seemed everyone accepted the relationship. Stepping into the mess for evening meal, Trip found a crowd surrounding him, eager to ask questions. One ensign got his meal while a Lieutenant dragged a seat to her table.

 _You are not joining us_ , T’Pol asked.

 _Not to night, Darlin_ , Trip returned slightly sarcastically, _too many fires to put out. You and the Captain have a nice meal in your private dining room while I deal with the rest of the crew._

 _I do not understand_ , the Vulcan stated, confusion in her mental tone.

 _That’s obvious. If you want this to stop, the best way is lots of exposure now. Give the crew what they want, information, a little excitement, time to understand and come to terms with this change. Believe me, it’ll die down a whole lot sooner,_ Trip promised.

It took two weeks until the grins and teasing stopped, until a new normal existed on Enterprise. Three days later the ship found an uninhabited Minshara class planet. Archer ordered shore leave on a rotating basis, while T’Pol organised her science teams. They would get an opportunity to vacation on the final rotation.

“I would have thought,” Archer shook his head as they entered the shuttle pod bay, “you’d wait for T’Pol to take your shore leave.”

“You kidding me,” Tucker threw back. “I have her in my head, even on vacation. I need to a chance to get away. Besides, we need to see how far this bond goes and this is the first time we’ve had a chance to test T’Pol’s theories.”

“So, you decided to do a little research while spending some quality time with your Captain,” Jon teased.

“Friend,” Trip smirked in return, one of his animated expressions covering his face. “Don’t seem to get the opportunity on Enterprise anymore. This married thing take up more time that I expected.”

“You can say that again,” Archer smacked the commander on the shoulder as he descended into the little vessel. Seven others crowded into the tiny space. Once Trip finally squeezed in, the Captain gave Travis the order to depart.

“I can still hear her,” Trip sighed eight hours later, “even though T’Pol’s on the other side of the planet.”

“Looks like you’re never going to get away from your spouse,” Archer mocked. The change in both Trip and T’Pol had been subtle, more so than he’d thought possible in the early days of their bond. The engineer was more cautious, stopping his sudden outbursts of emotion on occasion, however, T’Pol’s frosty demeanour thawed more than it had since coming aboard Enterprise. She was approachable but still very Vulcan.

“Tell me about it,” Trip smirked. “Honestly, Captain, I don’t really mind. Kind of got used to having my wife in my head. Don’t know how I survived before.”

Shaking his head, they continued their hike until recalled to Enterprise. The Captain was abducted, Trip injured and T’Pol left in docon after exposure to a virus. Cutler managed to get Commander Tucker patched up and back to the bridge. Aware of the issues occurring between Sub-commander T’Pol and Phlox, Trip couldn’t allow the bond between them to interfere with his search for the Captain. That had to come first.

“Bridge to Phlox,” Tucker comm’ed when T’Pol’s mental voice demand he release her from decon. Trip could feel the waves of sexual tension and emotions rolling of his wife. They were unusual in their strength and determination. The Vulcan’s plaintive mental cries restricted the Commander’s ability to do his job. With little choice, he instructed, “I can tell you’re having a little trouble down there, Doc. We got a few of our own up here. Do what you have to, subdue the Sub-commander if it necessary, that’s an order.”

“Understood,” Pholx almost sighed, preparing the hypo.

“Commander,” Malcom watched the engineer seated in the big chair. His complexion became white, indicating major issues in sick bay the rest of the crew couldn’t comprehend.

“It’s nothing, Lt. Reed,” Trip stated, his mind feeling T’Pol lose consciousness. “Nothing that can’t wait until we find that Tellarite vessel and get the Captain back at any rate.”

“Aye, Sir,” Reed responded automatically. Yet, he felt the change in Tucker, not his command style, just a new level of confidence in his ability to step into the Captain’s role.

“It’s good to have you back, Captain,” Commander Tucker greeted a dishevel looking Archer several hours later. While he wanted to hear about his friends experience, Trip had other matters that needed his immediate attention.

“It’s good to be home,” Jon smiled tiredly. “Where’s T’Pol?”

“Decon,” Trip rolled his eyes, his voice distressed. “I’ll explain over diner. Right now, I have to go and rescue Phlox.”

A puzzled expression covered Archers features. Shrugging, Trip stated, “the virus she picked up on the planet had some unusual, ah, side effects.”

“The kind only a husband can help with,” Jon responded, holding back a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation and embarrassed expression on his friends features.

“Let’s just say,” Trip gave one of his unique expressions, “she’s given Phlox hell and almost destroyed decon trying to get out. I’ll send a team to make repairs as soon as we get to our quarters.”

Nodding, Jonathan Archer watched Commander Tucker race away. _Seems,_ he told himself, _that his bond is a positive thing between them._

Reading the reports from several departments on the Tellarite encounter, the Captain finally understood just how much Commander Tucker had matured into his position. Sighing, Archer knew it wouldn’t be long before Trip deserved a vessel of his own. A little device, cutting a swath in the Earth’s crust changed everything. As events would show, the bond between Trip and T’Pol proved protective, for more than the couple. It was the only thing that stood between the command team and madness as they hunted the Xindi in the Delphic Expanse.


End file.
